In Her Dreams
by Canilla
Summary: Not all of Michaela's dreams of her new husband are sweet...


**In Her Dreams**

**By Canilla**

The first punch sent Michaela reeling, pain exploding across her face as her head snapped to the side. A hand grabbed her upper arm, a grip like iron keeping her from falling as another punch crashed into her cheek. She cried out with the pain, begging her attacker to stop. But the blows kept coming. Blood ran from her nose, from her lip, from a cut above her eye. The pain blinded her, and she felt consciousness slipping away.

Finally, the grip on her arm disappeared, and she crumpled to the ground. She raised her head to see piercing blue eyes looking down at her. She had never seen such fury or loathing in those eyes. The man knelt beside her and drew his fist back for another blow. She gasped out his name in terror….

"Sully!"

…..

Michaela bolted upright, gasping for breath. She was covered in sweat; her heart was pounding. But a quick check assured her that she was unhurt. There were no bruises, no blood. She was safe at home in her bed.

A hand touched her shoulder, making her jump. "Michaela?" It was Sully's voice, thick with sleep.

She tried to steady her breathing. "It was a dream…just a dream." Suddenly, she needed to move, to breathe. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, intending to get up for a few minutes.

Sully's hand closed on her arm. "What's wrong?"

The feel of his hand on her arm, just like the dream, sent a bolt of terror through Michaela, and she ripped herself free, stumbling to her feet and away from the bed. "Don't touch me!" she screamed. She retreated as far as she could, letting the wall support her weight as she gasped deep, shuddering breaths.

The bedroom was silent, save for the sound of Michaela's breathing. After a long moment, Sully moved, sitting up fully. In the dim glow from the banked fireplace, Michaela could see that his hands were spread in a gesture of peace and surrender.

"Michaela," he said gently, soothingly. "It's just me. You're safe. Nothin's gonna hurt ya. I ain't gonna hurt ya."

Before she could respond, a hesitant knock came from their door.

"Ma?" It was Brian. "Ya all right?"

Sully rolled out of bed and padded to the door, opening it far enough to see their youngest son. "It's all right, Brian," he told the boy quietly. "Your Ma just had a bad dream. Nothin' t' worry about."

"I heard her yell," Brian responded, unconvinced.

Michaela steadied her voice as best she could. "I'm all right now, Brian. You can go back to sleep."

Sully closed the door and turned to face her. "Ya ain't all right, Michaela," he said quietly. "You're shakin'."

"I'm just cold," Michaela responded. "Go back to sleep, Sully. I'm sorry I woke you." She hoped her husband wouldn't notice the tremble in her voice.

"What 'bout you? Ya comin' back t' bed?"

"In a minute." For lack of something better to do, Michaela went to the fireplace and stirred the coals. She hadn't lied – the room was chilly. Behind her, she heard the creak of the bed as Sully got back under the quilt. Relieved, she sank down by the hearth, staring into the glow without really seeing it. The dream played through her mind – the pain, the blood, the fist flying at her face, the eyes of hate…Sully's eyes.

Something brushed her shoulders, making her jump, but it was just a blanket.

"Sorry," Sully's gentle voice said from behind her. "You were shiverin'." As soon as the blanket was draped securely around her shoulders, he stepped back, not touching her.

The warmth eased Michaela's trembling almost instantly. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Anytime." After a moment, Sully asked hesitantly, "Would ya mind if I sat with ya?"

Michaela couldn't tell him no, so she nodded, adding automatically, "You might want a blanket, too. It's chilly in here."

Sully retrieved another blanket and sat beside her, just far enough away that he wouldn't touch her by accident. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Sully prompted, "Ya wanna tell me 'bout it?"

"It was just a dream," she responded, more to herself than him.

"Must've been some dream, then," he observed. "You're still scared." He reached for her hand, but pulled back before he actually touched her. "Please…tell me."

Michaela drew together her courage. "I was…I was being attacked." Once she'd begun, the words came more easily. She detailed the ferocity of the attack, the pain, the blood. "It was so vivid…so real." She stumbled for a moment, not wanting to reveal his part in her dream, saying only, "There was so much anger."

Sully's eyes narrowed. "Could ya see who was hurtin' ya?"

Michaela thought about lying, but she couldn't get any words past the sudden lump in her throat.

"Michaela?" Sully prompted. Again, he said, this time in a whisper, "Please tell me."

Finally, Michaela whispered back, "You." She couldn't look at him. "It was you."

When Sully spoke again, it was in a voice full of horror and revulsion. "No wonder you were so scared a' me when ya woke up."

"Sully…." Michaela trailed off, not sure of what to say.

"Michaela, ya know…ya hafta know I'd never…." Sully's sentence ended in a choke.

Now Michaela looked at him, horrified. "I do know!" she said quickly. She took a deep breath and went on more slowly, willing him to believe her. "Sully, you are the most honorable man I have ever met. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you would never lay a hand on me in anger. You would never strike any woman, least of all me."

After a moment, Sully's shoulders relaxed. "Good. I don't ever want ya t' be afraid a' me."

"I'm not," Michaela said soothingly. "And I'm sorry for the way I reacted. It was just all so real, and when you grabbed my arm, I – "

Sully cut her off. "Ya don't hafta explain. Ya weren't really awake yet. I didn't mean t' scare ya."

She gave him a little smile. "I know."

"Could…do ya think I could hold ya?" Sully asked hesitantly.

Michaela looked at him, struck by his eyes. They were the same piercing blue that she had noticed the day they met, the same blue that had captivated her imagination as their relationship grew…the same blue from her dream. The bolt of panic was immediate, but it passed as quickly as it came. Sully's eyes were the same color as Dream-Sully's, but the resemblance ended there. Sully – the real Sully – looked at her with such love and tenderness. A desperate, boyish hope was in his eyes; he was hoping simply for the chance to comfort her, to reassure her.

"I could use some holding," Michaela responded softly.

Sully's smile was immediate. He slid closer and pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I'll hold ya as long as ya want," he assured her.

The last of Michaela's tension bled away as she snuggled closer to her husband. With her cheek pressed against his chest, she could hear the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. Suddenly, her dream seemed distant and foolish; there was no safer place in the world than in Sully's arms.


End file.
